


The Hives of Responsibility

by Westbrook



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Dinner, F/M, Family, Gen, Inheritance, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-11 23:25:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7911646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Westbrook/pseuds/Westbrook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote Vorrutyer fic! </p><p>This is a fun piece set shortly after <i>A Civil Campaign</i>. I wrote it mainly as something relatively light-hearted and amusing, while also exploring some of the aspects of the tangled Vorrutyer family and Barrayaran inheritance rules and politics. </p><p>I hope you it enjoy it! Comments, concerns, questions, kudoses, and feedback are appreciated!</p><p>Byerly Vorrtuyer, Dono Vorrutyer and Olivia Koudelka are the property of Lois McMaster Bujold, who is a much better writer than I ever shall be! Please do not set the lawyers on me!</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Hives of Responsibility

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote Vorrutyer fic! 
> 
> This is a fun piece set shortly after _A Civil Campaign_. I wrote it mainly as something relatively light-hearted and amusing, while also exploring some of the aspects of the tangled Vorrutyer family and Barrayaran inheritance rules and politics. 
> 
> I hope you it enjoy it! Comments, concerns, questions, kudoses, and feedback are appreciated!
> 
> Byerly Vorrtuyer, Dono Vorrutyer and Olivia Koudelka are the property of Lois McMaster Bujold, who is a much better writer than I ever shall be! Please do not set the lawyers on me!

Byerly Vorrutyer was trapped. It had been a most cunningly, some would say fiendishly, designed trap-one baited with the promise of excellent food and wine, sprinkled with the chance to exchange even more delicious gossip-but he, who was usually so good to see the shiny hook behind the delightful wriggling worm, had missed it entirely. 

Even worse, the attack had come from an entirely unexpected quarter, and Byerly knew the truth that the most deadly blows came from the most unanticipated directions. He could only stare in horror at his assailants, shock running through his system, such a shame about his lovely new lavender suit, with all the red dripping down it, his tailor would never forgive him for ruining it with-  
“By? Are you quite alright?”  
Byerly snapped back to himself, and instinctively took stock. 

Location: Vorrutyer House, Vorbarr Sultana, the dining room. Guests: Count Dono Vorrutyer, newly-elevated and formerly Lady Donna, and Olivia Koudelka, soon-to-be Countess Vorrutyer, Byerly himself. Occasion: Dinner, wine, excellent conversation and- Byerly shuddered, shying away from that thought, before glancing over at his cousin and Olivia, both of whom looked startled-though Byerly saw that gleam of unholy humor that characterized Donna’s- _Dono’s_ -sense of humor, one Byerly shared himself and enjoyed on most occasions, but now found rather pointed turned in his direction. Even Olivia herself, gentle Olivia, seemed to be trying to cover up the smile at how Byerly had reacted. 

Sighing, By glanced down at himself: brand-new lavender suit, cut to show off his slim frame, worn only this evening, straight from Edvuard’s, simply soaked in a truly delightful Vorsennet’s District Red. A waste of both suit and wine, but it seemed that even years of both vicious High Vor societal warfare and covert ImpSec training could not prepare oneself for everything. 

“Dono, dearest cousin, because I believe that I have been struck deaf and dumb and stupid, and am perhaps in a state of severe hallucination, could you please repeat that last statement?” Oh, there was no mistaking that delightfully evil grin that passed in front of Dono’s face, and Olivia’s attempt to cover her smile had ceased entirely. Giggling was now involved.  
“Of course, my most beloved Byerly,” Dono smirked at him. “In case your faculties have deserted you entirely, I did say that I tend to declare you as my heir, Lord Vorrutyer in truth, in the Council of Counts.”

Byerly stared at his evil, fiendish, underhanded cousin for a moment, before deliberately lifting a hand and pinching himself on the cheek like their great-Aunt Hilda (the nails on that woman!) used to do. Sadly, it hurt quite a bit, and so Byerly was convinced that this was, in fact, reality and not a horrible delusion brought on by ImpSec drug testing (something that Byerly had….. **personal** experience with). “Dono, what in the name of _le Sanguinaire_ possessed you to name me as-“ and here Byerly could only shudder “heir? You know that kind of responsibility makes me break out in hives!” 

Dono grinned at him for a moment more, before looking over at Olivia, who smiled and nodded. The Count leaned forward and locked his eyes with Byerly’s, who had to avoid twitching. That was a trait of Donna’s that Dono hadn’t jettisoned along with her luggage and additional X chromosome-the ability to have the entirety of his focus directed onto a single objective. Byerly had found it remarkable, whether it was in the pursuit of a man or manhood, but would now say that having it directed towards himself somewhat…..disconcerting. 

“I’m going to be frank Byerly-“  
“And after all that work at being Dono?” Byerly cursed his tongue as Dono’s eyebrows winged up and a flash of hurt crossed his face before a snort from Olivia caught both Vorrutyer's attention. Dono glanced over at his blonde fiancée, who merely smiled and said “That one was fairly funny dear,” laying her hand over his to take any of the sting out of the words. Dono glanced back at his cousin for a moment, before a crooked smile flashed across his own face, a genuine one, and he replied, “So it was,” turning his hand to squeeze Olivia’s. “Don’t look so put out By,” Dono said, returning his attention to his cousin, “it’s who you are to make those comments, and to be-” a deliberate pause and a wicked grin “ _frank_ , I will need to get used to hearing those sorts of comments, even now. Best I hear them from someone I love and who I know doesn’t mean it.” 

Byerly nodded slightly, and Dono leaned forward again, his expression intensifying. “Back to the original point-As Count Vorrutyer, By, I need an heir. As Olivia and I have yet to reproduce, though that is definitely in the development,” and here Dono and Olivia traded a glance which Byerly, trained as he was, easily interpreted, and decided to avoid by continuing to try to mop up his suit, “I don’t have a close biological connection to have the Countship conferred onto should I pass.”  
Byerly paused for a moment in his attempt to clean himself, his ImpSec training kicking in at the phrasing of that last bit.  
“Dono, is there something I should know about? Something about your health to make this a concern?” Dono shook his head, intertwining his fingers with Olivia’s. “Not that I’m aware of. My Betan doctors were _very_ thorough, cleaned up everything I could think of, and a few things I couldn’t. I’m as healthy as Beta could make me.” Which was indeed quite healthy, Byerly thought, but then moved onto the next area. 

“And have there been any more……Richars-type situations?” he asked. Olivia’s face tightened, and her fingers squeezed Dono’s for a moment as she looked over at her fiancé. Dono himself merely sat for a moment, before squeezing Olivia’s hand back and granting her a brief smile, before turning a more sober expression on his cousin. “No, Byerly, no one has tried anything of that nature. I don’t think anyone would dare, first because I have my armsmen around me at all times, and they’re an amazingly effective deterrent, as you know. I think everyone knows how the Emperor would view such a thing, attempted against a sitting Count, no matter how unconventional they are. Not to mention how Count Vorhalas would react as well, as well as the Vorkosigans,” Dono replied, squeezing Olivia’s hand once more with this last statement, the two exchanging another smile. 

Byerly nodded at this. Barrayaran Armsmen took their oaths in the defense of their liege lords seriously, and with no close family around at the moment, Dono had the full compliment of twenty to guard himself and Olivia.  
And Emperor Gregor indeed had made his thoughts about attacks of the physical presence of his Counts very clear, that while political methods were one thing, organized violence was something entirely different. Count Vorhalas would eagerly lead the charge against anything underhanded, and the Vorkosigan connection-Count Aral to Commodore Koudelka to Olivia-meant that Olivia would also be safe. But this little exercise, while fascinating from a Security viewpoint, did nothing to answer Byerly’s more immediate, pressing and decidedly personal need to have this question answered. 

“So why then……?” he inquired. “In a way, it is because of Richars, By,” Dono replied. “After I was confirmed as Count, I had a chat with the Lord Guardian, where I was urged to consult my records as to the status of my heir. As it turns out, Richars, who would normally have been first in line following Pierre’s death, would be my heir if he weren’t being held in prison,” and here Byerly knew that the savage satisfaction that flashed across Dono and Olivia’s faces was in fact mirrored in his own, “but as he is, may he rot there for the rest of his miserable life, the inheritance could then in fact pass to one of his sons, as there is precedent for such a thing.” 

Byerly’s lip curled in disgust. Richars’ sons were, as the old saying went, a chip off of their father’s disgusting block. 

“While, rather shockingly, neither of Richars’s sons were implicated in his crime, inheritance does tend to skip over those lines in cases like this-Olivia helped me look up the history-but that leads us to another problem, that of Richars’ brothers and the various Vorrutyer cousins,” Dono continued, and Byerly nodded. 

Historically, Vorrutyer family feuds tended to the nasty side, even for Barrayar, where dynastic squabbles could and had turned quite violent. Something about the Vorrutyer madness popping up and being exacerbated by family dysfunction, occasionally lead to spillover into wider political conflict.  
Pierre le Sanguinaire, Byerly’s great-great-grandfather, had earned part of his nickname in the rather..... **final** manner by which he settled those particular feuds of his generation. 

In his own generation, Byerly had counted Donna as his only true friend and ally, with Pierre as an erratic and eccentric distant second, and the rest of the family descending from there, with Richars of course being rock-bottom. 

“With that being said, if something were to happen to me-if I were to be randomly struck by a meteorite on the streets of Vorbarr Sultana-the Countship would be extremely tangled and the suits over the inheritance would make René and mine’s own inheritance fights look like a trifle. So, we come to you, Byerly,” Dono stated. “Dono……I’m flattered, really I am, but….Lord Vorrutyer? Me?” Byerly said. “There’s no way you could get it through the Council! You have to have it approved and everything, Gregor makes any Count changing Heirs wait two years to discourage disinheritance due to feuds or hotheadedness-it would be a huge mess!”  
“Actually, that would be the easiest part,” Olivia chimed in, and Byerly swung his eyes to her. 

“It’s true that normally, a ruling Count would have to wait two years to disinherit his heir, but this wouldn’t be a disinheritance. More of a stand-in. As Count, Dono would inform both Gregor and the Council that he was temporarily naming you as Lord Vorrutyer, directly in line to inherit the District, until the birth of Dono and mine’s first son. You’d only be Lord Vorrutyer for about a year or so, really, and when our son is born,” and here Olivia smiled brilliantly at Dono, who returned the expression, “you would step down. It’s all proper and legal-you would just swear in front of witnesses to not try and usurp the District or Countship and your fealty to our son when he is born and would be confirmed, Dono declares you his Heir for a set time period, or until you renounce or return the title to our son, and declare fealty to him as the new Lord Vorrutyer, and there you are.” Olivia flashed him a pleased grin.  
“I asked Delia to ask Duv, and talked to Professora Vorthys as well, and they both confirm there’s several precedents for it, and the lawyers say it’s all legal and everything. If you accept, you would be Lord Vorrutyer, for real.”  
“And before you try to deflect again By, it’s Count’s Choice over Count’s Blood. And you are my choice,” Dono declared, having listened to Olivia with an intent smile on his face. 

Now, shifting to look at his cousin, the laughter had gone out of Dono's eyes, and was replaced with something far worse-a deep and abiding earnestness.  
“Byerly, you are more than my cousin, you are my best friend. You’ve stood by me and supported me always, no matter the situation, without any thought of what it could mean to you. Through my marriages, my affairs and dalliances, my sex-change, the Council fight, you were there supporting me and fighting for me. Now I’m asking you to stand by me for the next year, so that I know that if something were to happen, my District would be in good hands.” 

Byerly normally would make a witty or cutting comment, a sarcastic remark, anything to deflect the feeling of awkwardness, the genuineness of this moment.  
He should avoid, saying that an undercover ImpSec domestic security agent shouldn’t become a Count’s heir, however temporarily.  
He should duck and weave, pointing out facts about how he’s been implicated in the scandal of Dono’s rise and Richars’ downfall, how both he and Dono will face an enormous amount of scrutiny over and potential ridicule, Dono especially.  
Byerly should do all of those things. 

But he can’t. 

Because Donna had stood by him when his father believed the flat-out disgusting lies and slander about Byerly and Julia, who had offered him a place to stay when he showed up dirty and bloody at her doorstep, who served as his social guide and sparring partner and became his dearest friend, who has given up so much and changed his/her entire _life_ ……asking Byerly to stand with him. 

Against that history, those memories, against that friendship and a true blood tie, against the focus in Dono’s eyes and the encouragement in Olivia’s…..how can Byerly say no? 

Byerly didn’t do anything so gauche as actually sigh, but he made it obvious that was his intention, and judging by the light in Dono’s eyes as he grinned, it came across very clearly. “I know that I’m going to regret this,” Byerly said, and Dono and Olivia both chuckled.  
“I know you will,” Dono replied, “but I won’t. Not for a minute.”

At that declaration, Byerly was forced to blush, which he hated, and Olivia clapped her hands. “Well, now that that is all settled, what about dessert? I do believe the cook has a delightful Black Forest Cake. And Byerly,” her voice turned sly, “Dono did fail to mention that assuming the position of Lord Vorrutyer does come with certain benefits…..including that of a not-insubstantial allowance and use of the family monies for various things, such as, oh, clothing alterations and tailors and the paying off of debts and such. Would that be something that might interest you?” Byerly gaped like a prole at their first Imperial dinner, while his deceitful, wicked, devious, wonderful, amazing cousin guffawed with laughter, before he finally spluttered “You could have led with that you know!” 

Olivia’s silvery peals of laughter matched well with Dono’s, and Byerly Vorrutyer could not help but join his family in their joy.


End file.
